


It's beginning to look a lot like f*ck this

by Zara_Zee



Series: The HellSpawn 'verse [4]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bikers, Christmas Smut, Kink, Light BDSM, M/M, Rimming, Spanking, Vague references to abusive childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21954514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zara_Zee/pseuds/Zara_Zee
Summary: Jared really,reallyhates Christmas. Jensen tries to make it better.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Series: The HellSpawn 'verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/489715
Comments: 29
Kudos: 148





	It's beginning to look a lot like f*ck this

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sleepyvixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyvixen/gifts).



> I've been promising Sleepvixen forever that I'm working on another Hellspawn story...and I am...I just keep getting sidetracked and the story keeps getting longer too. So I offered to write something short to make up for being such a tease. Sleepyvixen asked for Jared to meet Jensen's parents and for Jensen to get his ass spanked. I only managed the spanking! Jared will meet the parents...but not yet! :D Hope you enjoy. xx

\--

Jensen’s stenciling flames onto the fuel tank of an Indian Scout when he hears Jared shouting.

Fuck.

He’s gotta finish before he can go run interference or he’ll have to strip the paint and start over and he’s way too busy for that, so he just grits his teeth, keeps his hands steady and hopes that Danni can hold her own.

When he gets out into the main office, Jared is nowhere to be seen, Danni’s in tears and Chad, Rachel and Ruthie are gathered around her looking equal parts worried and furious.

“You’ve got to do something,” Ruthie says, as soon as she sees him.

Chad scowls. “Y’all don’t get it,” he says mulishly. “You guys are all ‘ _deck the halls, tra la la_ ,’ but it ain’t a happy time of year for Jared. Ain’t _halls_ he’s gonna deck if this,” he waves his arms, “keeps up.”

“All I did was put up a tree in the reception area and play a Christmas CD,” Danni says tearfully.

“And there’s nothing wrong with that, dear,” Ruth pats her hand. “Christmas trees have pagan roots, I’m partial to them myself. And they add color and cheer. Nothing wrong with trying to brighten things up, get customers feeling festive and in the mood to spend their money. Right, Jensen?”

Jensen rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Where’d he go?”

Danni waves at the front door and Jensen nods. “Leave it with me,” he says.

He goes and packs away his equipment, wheels his bike out of the workshop and then locks the workshop behind him, before sitting astride his baby, digging his Marlboros out of his jacket pocket and lighting up.

Jensen takes a deep drag and then exhales noisily. 

It ain’t like he hasn’t noticed Jared’s lack of Christmas spirit. And he knows enough about Jared’s childhood—such as it was—in the foster care system to be able to take a good guess at the reasons for it. But Jared doesn’t talk about the fucked up shit from his past; not unless he’s wasted or raging furiously about something.

Jensen sighs, drops his cigarette butt and crushes it beneath his boot, before starting his bike and roaring down the driveway of J2 Motorcycles—Custom Builders and Dealers and out onto the street.

When he gets home, the dogs are outside, wet noses pressed against the window, expressions forlorn. It’s not a good sign.

Jared’s on the sofa with a bottle of Jim Beam, no glass. He lifts his chin when he sees Jensen and then takes a long swig. There’s banked fury burning in his eyes and his jaw is clenched tight.

“You got the short straw, huh? Come to talk some sense into me?”

Jensen frowns. “I live here, Jay.”

Jared snorts. “I know how busy you are. No way you got time to take half a day off right now. So. Get it out the way. Tell me I’m an asshole and then fuck off back to work,” his glare is utterly unrepentant.

Jensen raises an eyebrow.

Raging furiously _and_ on the way to wasted; Jensen figures he has a good chance of getting Jared to talk. He also recalls Chad’s earlier comment, that it won’t be _halls_ that Jared decks and he figures better him than Danni, so deliberate provocation it is. Jensen squares his shoulders and goes and gets his laptop from where it’s charging in the kitchen. He comes back into the living room, sits on the armchair opposite Jared and opens YouTube. He selects the most obnoxious Christmas music mix he can find and hits play.

Jared’s nostrils flare.

Jensen stares at him, challengingly.

“Turn that shit off,” Jared snarls.

“Make me.”

Jared slams the bourbon bottle down on the table. “I mean it, Jensen. Don’t push me on this.”

Jensen stretches out his legs, folds his arms behind his head and smirks.

Jared’s in front of him, hauling him to his feet in seconds, and before Jensen can do more than think _oh shit_ , he’s being slammed face-first against the nearest wall. Jared’s got one hand pressed against the back of Jensen’s head and he yanks one of Jensen’s arms up behind his back. He forces Jensen’s legs apart, gets one of his own in between them, his knees resting snuggly against Jensen’s balls and Jensen swallows hard.

It’s entirely possible he may have misread how pissed off Jared is.

“Jared?” he says, cautious now.

“You don’t know shit,” Jared snarls. “You with your fancy fuckin’ house and your billionaire Daddy, prob’y went to Church in your Sunday best, then opened a shit ton of presents under your big fuckin’ Christmas tree, and then ate a fuckin’ feast.”

He’s not wrong.

Sure, holidays with Jensen’s extended family were irritating; they all liked to complain long and loud, over their gluttonous catered feast, about immigrants, gay people, interracial marriage, rap music, and the proof the Bible offered that Barack Obama was, in fact, the anti-Christ. According to his parents, Jensen had ‘ruined’ the holidays on more than one occasion by ‘deliberately provoking people with his liberal nonsense’.

And they may have had a point. Jensen certainly did enjoy baiting conservatives, but the truth was probably a great deal sadder. Jensen had realized by the time he was twelve that not only did he have nothing in common with his family of origin, he also actively disagreed with them on pretty much every fundamental personal value you could name.

But as painful as all of that was, it was probably nothing compared to what Jared had endured over the holidays.

“You’re right,” Jensen tells Jared. “I don’t know shit. So _tell_ me.”

Abruptly, Jared releases his hold on Jensen, turns away and slams the lid of the laptop shut, cutting off some dude crooning about Santa knowing whether you’ve been naughty or nice.

Jared’s muttering something about stupid lying Christmas bullshit and Jensen gives him what he hopes is a sultry smile.

“Oh, I dunno,” he says. “That whole naughty or nice thing? We could have some Christmas roleplay fun with that. You could wear the red suit, sit me on your knee and when I admit what I naughty boy I’ve been this year, you could put me over you knee and spank me until I agree to be good for you?”

Jared shakes his head. “No offense, but Christmas already makes me think about pervy old men groping kids. I don’t wanna roleplay it.”

Jensen grimaces. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he sighs. “I’m trying to help you _not_ hate Christmas so much and I’m fucking it all up.”

Jared stares at him and then runs a hand through his hair and tips his head backwards.

“I’m sorry too,” he says. “It’s just that everything about this time of year really grinds my gears.”

Jensen steps forward, puts his arms around Jared’s waist. “Is there _anything_ about Christmas that you’ve ever liked?”

Jared tilts his head. “Hellspawn used to do a toy drive,” he says slowly.

He pulls away from Jensen and sits back down on the sofa. Jensen sits down beside him.

“The community center on Vine ran a lot of programs for kids who were doing it tough and they’d do a Christmas party for us every year. The whole club would ride down to the party in convoy, with presents for all the kids. JD was Santa,” Jared grins. “Santa on a Harley. It was pretty awesome. That’s how I met JD. And then later, I was in a foster home near MorningStar Motors and I used to sneak in to look at all the bikes, cos I figured they couldn’t be too scary if Santa worked for ‘em.”

“Yeah,” Jensen nods. “I remember you telling me. Does the community center still do the Christmas party?”

Jared shrugs. “After JD died… Mark wasn’t interested in giving presents to kids, so we stopped doing it. I kinda lost track of the community center after that.”

Jensen puts his hand on Jared’s knee. “We should start doing something like that again,” he says softly.

Jared nods. “Yeah. But it ain’t gonna make me start liking Christmas.”

Jensen grins. “We’re gonna work on that,” he slaps Jared’s thigh. “In the meantime, I gotta hit the road. I’ve got a lot of work to get done,” he looks searchingly at his partner. “Go easy on the bourbon, alright? I got plans for you later.”

\--

Jared goes easy on the bourbon. He also opens Jensen’s laptop, looks up the community center’s website, and then calls and talks to the woman who’s in charge down there these days.

Briana Buckmaster is, to Jared’s amusement, pretty darn tootin’ excited about J2 Motorcycles sponsoring their Christmas party. She’s a motorcycle enthusiast herself and Jared learns that Bri and her partner Kim have ridden for Dykes on Bikes in every Pride Parade for the last five years.

“And just so’s you know,” she says cheerfully, “My Kim’s a police officer, so ixnay on the extra-curricular activities while she’s around.”

“J2 Motorcycles is a legitimate business ma’am,” Jared says mildly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bri says. “But I know you’re also the President of Hellspawn MC, so telling you about Kim is just a friendly heads up.”

After his conversation with Bri, Jared calls Ruthie. He gives her Bri’s contact numbers and a budget, and asks her to get in touch with Bri and work out all the details, but keep him and Jensen in the loop.

He lets the dogs back in and romps with them for a while, apologizes to them for being an asshole and then feeds them.

Finally, he calls Takamasa Hayashi for an update on when they can move into the new house that Jared has organized to rent from the Yakuza.

Jensen went and got himself kidnapped by the Bastard Sons a few months back and Jared decided pretty much straight away that they needed a more secure house.

The fact that Jensen had been on the road, on his way to see a customer when the Bastard Sons knocked him off his bike is irrelevant. It’s also irrelevant that Jensen grew up in a fucking mansion. Jared absolutely does not have some stupid macho need to _provide_ for his old lady and anyone who says otherwise can suck his dick. For a start, his _old lady_ is a manly man who’s completely capable of wiping the floor with Jared—and anyone else who comes along. Jensen actually rescued himself from his own kidnapping and what he did to Mitch Pileggi for kidnapping him, doesn’t bear thinking about.

Jared will deny ‘til his dying day that he desperately wants to give Jensen the lifestyle that he grew up with, because he’s not some insecure pussy. Like, at all.

“I’m not,” he says to Sadie. “Quit lookin’ at me like that, mutt.”

Unsurprisingly, Hayashi’s answer on the house in Beverly Hills hasn’t changed; the property won’t be available until mid-January. Just like he’s already told Jared three times. Hayashi’s tone is perfectly polite, when he reminds Jared of this, but Jared senses that he’s pushing his luck with the nagging. Fortunately for him, the local Yakuza boss is extremely fond of Jensen and completely understands Jared’s need to protect him, however unnecessary and potentially dangerous for Jared that need might be.

Jared is going through their collection of takeout menus and trying to decide what he feels like for supper when he hears the familiar roar of a Harley engine. A moment later Jensen is walking through the front door carrying a couple of brown paper bags and Jared’s interest is immediately piqued.

Jensen sees the takeout menus on the coffee table. “Supper later,” he says. “Wait here until I call you.”

He gives Jared a look that there’s no mistaking and by the time Jensen calls him, Jared is hard enough to pound nails, just wondering what Jensen has in store for him.

What he finds…well…it’s not exactly what he was expecting.

Jensen is spreadeagled on the bed wearing nothing but a pair of red lacy panties, and okay, Jared _was_ kind of expecting that. What he _wasn’t_ expecting was the Santa hat that Jensen is wearing and the tinsel strewn all over the bed. There’s a tiny Christmas tree sitting on the nightstand too.

“Santa baby,” Jensen croons, in a sultry imitation of Eartha Kitt. “I’m the present under the tree, for ye.”

Jared rolls his eyes.

“You wanna unwrap me?” Jensen wriggles his hips. “You could use the tinsel to tie me up.”

Jared pulls a face. “I’m not tying you up with tinsel; that shit could cut into you.”

He sweeps it all off the bed and onto the floor and then crawls in between Jensen’s spread legs and begins to nuzzle at his dick, already straining against the restrictive fabric of his panties.

Jensen’s hands come down to grab at his hair and Jared pulls off.

“Uh uh,” he says. “You’re gonna lie like a Christmas star and stay that way until I tell you you can move.”

Jensen swallows and does as he’s told.

Jared sucks at Jensen’s dick through the lace for a while longer and then slowly peels the panties off his hips and down his thighs, gradually revealing his pretty dick, already red and twitching.

Jared taps Jensen’s thigh and he closes his legs, allowing Jared to peel his panties off him and throw them onto the floor.

“Roll over for me,” he instructs and Jensen complies. “Spread em,”

Jared will never get sick of watching Jensen’s legs part for him.

His hands roam over the most perfect ass he’s ever seen and then he pulls Jensen’s ass cheeks apart, exposing his dusty pink—and obviously thoroughly cleaned—hole. 

Jared grins. “Stay still,” he orders and then gets his mouth down there.

The desperate noise Jensen makes when the hot wet muscle of Jared’s tongue spears his hole is very gratifying. He grasps the quilt tightly with his fists and his breathing becomes little more than a chorus of bitten off gasps and moans.

Eventually he thrusts his ass back into Jared’s face which is the signal Jared was waiting for. He pulls his tongue out and slaps Jensen’s ass hard. Jensen whimpers.

“Color?”

“Green as a Christmas tree,” Jensen says.

Jared smirks. “Good,” he says. “Because I’m planning on turning your ass as red as Santa’s suit.”

Jensen swallows. “Look in the bag.”

Jared frowns and glances around.

“Behind the Christmas tree.”

Jared spots the plain brown paper bag and reaches for it.

Inside there are two black leather paddles. One with the word ‘nice’ cut out of it and the other with the word ‘naughty’ cut out of it.

Jensen looks pleased with himself and Jared grins at him. He stands up and strips naked and then plucks Jensen’s santa hat off his head and puts it onto his own.

“So,” he says, hefting both paddles thoughtfully, “have you been naughty or nice this year?”

“A little bit of both,” Jensen admits.

Jared considers the paddles. They’re designed for fun spankings rather than punishment, and he can’t decide which word he would rather see imprinted on Jensen’s ass. Although, he inclines his head, Jensen does have two ass cheeks. And he did say he’d been both naughty and nice. Jared’s grin becomes evilly wicked and he puts the naughty paddle down on the bed.

“Color?” he says again.

“Green,” Jensen huffs with an eye roll and if he thinks he won’t be punished for that he’s got another thing coming.

Jared brings the paddle down length-ways on his right ass cheek, hard enough to elicit a yelp.

“That was for being a brat,” Jared says.

Jensen huffs. “It wasn’t _nice_. You should’ve used the _naughty_ paddle.”

Jared smirks. “That’s for the _other_ cheek,” he says and smacks Jensen’s right cheek with the _nice_ paddle again.

“Fuck,” Jensen says.

Jared spanks him methodically. He’s not smacking hard, not since the first one, but he’s landing the paddle in precisely the same place every time and then letting the paddle rest against his ass for a moment after each impact.

Jared spanks Jensen’s right cheek twenty-five times—because Christmas is on December 25th—well, it’s as good a reason as any—and then pauses to admire his handiwork. The word _nice_ is emblazoned on Jensen’s ass cheek in a brilliant snow-white; or perhaps it only looks so white in contrast to the fiery red skin that surrounds it.

“Color?”

Jensen’s voice hitches a little as he replies that he’s green.

“Left cheek now, sweetheart,” Jared says.

He switches paddles and brings the _naughty_ paddle down firmly on unmarked flesh.

Jensen gasps and then moans.

Jared smacks the paddle down firmly, leaves the paddle in place for long enough to seal in the stinging ache and then repeats, with metronomic regularity.

Jensen is gasping continuously by ten, his eyes are bright with unshed tears by twenty and when Jared brings the paddle down on his _naughty_ ass for the twenty-fifth time a few tears finally fall.

“You okay?”

Jensen nods, wipes at his face. “Yeah. Hurts just the way I like it.”

“Can I fuck you now?”

Jared gets another nod and Jensen tells him that he’s green as fucking Christmas tree when asked, which earns his ass another slap.

Jared opens Jensen up with quick, skillful fingers and a healthy dose of lube. That done, he wastes little time, pulling Jensen up by the hips, lining himself up, and then sinking inside him in one slow, relentless push that makes Jensen yowl.

He sets a punishing pace, fucking in deep and hard, nailing Jensen’s prostate unerringly and slamming his hips against Jensen’s well-spanked ass.

Jensen doesn’t take his fucking quietly; the sweet combination of pleasure and pain is driving him wild and he’s mewling and grunting and crying out almost continuously.

“Gotta come, gotta come,” he chants, but he doesn’t move to touch his cock until Jared tells him that he can and once he gets a hand on it, it’s all over for Jensen in three short tugs.

“Oh God,” he moans, collapsing onto his stomach.

“Just call me Santa, baby,” Jared smirks.

He rides Jensen down and then jackhammers into him, plowing him thoroughly and making him claw at the sheets. He chases his own orgasm with reckless abandon, every inch of his long, fat dick slamming home so deep and hard that the bed rattles against the wall with every thrust. 

Jensen ass clenches around him—Jared thinks he might’ve come a second time—and that’s enough to send him over the edge. He climaxes with a rebel yell of triumph and then collapses himself, blanketing Jensen’s back.

“Gerroff me,” Jensen mumbles a little while later.

Jared pulls out. Jensen winces.

Jared cleans them both up and then rubs soothing cream on his boyfriend’s naughty/nice ass.

“Thanks for this,” Jared tells him, taking off the santa hat. “I got me a whole lot more _nice_ Christmas memories now.”

Jensen pats the bed beside him and Jared lies down facing him.

“You gonna be less of a Grinch now?”

Jared shrugs. “I called the Community Center today. About sponsoring a Christmas thing for the kids.”

“I know. Ruthie told me,” he pauses. “The past…” he hesitates. “It matters. But you can’t change it. Us. Now. _Our_ family. What we’ve got. What we’re gonna have. That matters more.”

Jared leans forward and kisses him softly; gentle in a way he rarely is

“I know,” he says. “Merry Christmas, Jensen.”

\--


End file.
